I spent most of the weekend looking through a book with my daughters that we bought on Saturday. It's a big book, called Dogs, and does what it says on the tin, being a hardback full of photographs of different canine breeds. If you're interested in the subject – and at the moment neither daughter appears to be interested in anything else – it's probably the best book on dogs you can get, and could only really be improved if it were called Dogs!.
They obviously have their favourites, although I was rather surprised to see how much they have taken against the Pomeranian, principally because one is now owned by Paris Hilton. They now turn to the Pomeranian section whenever they pick the book up, and to be honest, you couldn't repeat some of the terrible things they have said about the dog and its owner. Perhaps it's the incredulousness with which they treat her CV: socialite, celebutante, heiress, model, media personality, singer, TV "star", "fashion designer" and "occasional" actress. Or it may be their disdain over the way her love for man's best friend led her to create an apparel line for dogs called "Paris Hilton by Little Lily".
Paris's dogs have brought her pain as well as column inches, as last year she lost two of her 17 dogs when they were attacked by wild coyotes. But then maybe Paris has deceived us all, and is actually far closer to Harold Wilson than she might at first appear. Wilson famously regarded himself as a "man of the people" and did much to promote this image, wearing his Gannex raincoat, banging on about "proper food" and HP Sauce, holidaying in the Scilly Isles, supporting Huddersfield FC and continually smoking a pipe in public (even though in private he smoked cigars). And I think that dear sweet Paris has followed a similar principle, and is only masquerading as a painfully shallow bimbo, and is actually made of much sterner stuff. She secretly wants to work for the UN, is thinking of one day standing for Governor of California, is a keen advocate of Malcolm Lowry and – yes, you guessed it – owns a Great Dane.
A bitch, obviously.
Dylan Jones is the editor of 'GQ'.Reuse content